


Ash

by Medie



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Female Character of Color, Femslash, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Which were you angrier about? That I left Starfleet or that I left you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ash

**Author's Note:**

> for this year's [Porn Battle](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/35812.html)

It's done before Kathryn lets herself feel it. It being the weight of B'Elanna's accusing gaze. If Chakotay and the others only knew what it truly meant—she brushes off the thought with the brusque efficiency learned from a dozen other crises across a dozen other systems. She curls fingers against her palms, feeling the bite of her nails against her skin as she turns and asks for damage reports. All decks. Casualties as well.

The words fall like rote and she lets them. She lets that familiarity carry her through the next few moments, through conversing with Commander Chakotay (plans already falling into place) and studiously avoiding eye contact with B'Elanna.

She can't, not here, not yet.

Not until it's a day later, everyone settled in, and the expected chime at the door. The door slides open without Kathryn's permission. Giving B'Elanna Torres standing permission is habit.

The first thing she does, even if it's been years since she saw her.

"You look good," Kathryn says, cradling her coffee in her hands. The last one for a while. Replicators aren't up and running yet and a system— _God_. Weariness settles over her and she closes her eyes. "You know I didn't have a choice."

The coffee cup is tugged from her hands and she feels B'Elanna settle across from her. "Doesn't mean I can't be angry about it." There's a pause and a wry admission, "I'm half-Klingon, remember? I'm angry about _everything_."

"Especially where I'm concerned," Kathryn says, "Right?"

B'Elanna surprises her by laughing. "Only because making up was half the fun." She puts the mug down on the table between them. "Chakotay knows."

"Of course he does," Kathryn sighs. "Did you—"

"He knew there was someone," B'Elanna says. "Another Starfleet officer." She hesitates. "An instructor. I never told him a name, but Tuvok aside, Chakotay's damn good at reading people. The bridge and the way I looked at you was enough."

The bitterness in her laughter is audible even to Kathryn. "No," she says, opening her eyes again. "It was the look on mine." She lets herself look at B'Elanna again. Truly look. She can't see the marks, but they're there. Stolen dermal regenerators work just as well as the Starfleet versions. She wonders if B'Elanna knows just how closely her Maquis career's been observed.

If Tuvok's admission into Chakotay's crew had come out of that observation.

"You kept Starfleet Intelligence busy," she says, admitting it.

"You—"

"Have trouble letting go," Kathryn grins, rueful. "There's a rather flustered Deltan counselor who can testify to that fact. Well, once we get back she can. I ranted about you for quite a while."

B'Elanna snorts. "I can imagine. Which were you angrier about? That I left Starfleet or that I left you?"

Kathryn tucks her chin. "If you have to ask me that, B'Elanna, then you never knew me at all." The words are surprisingly devoid of anger and, well, they would be. She's had a lot of time to process things. At least, that's what she's told herself over the weeks, months, years that lie between them.

With B'Elanna sitting across from her, close enough to touch, dark hair curling against her jawline and tormenting Kathryn's fingers with every motion, those words sound hollow.

"I'm not sure I ever knew you," B'Elanna says. "You make Vulcans look like open books." She shakes her head, hair gleaming even in the low light. "You—I didn't fit, Kate. I _never_ fit."

"You would have," Kathryn says, stomach twisting to hear herself called that again. To hear the frustration simmering in every word. "B'Elanna—" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, it's not my place, it never was."

"But," B'Elanna says.

"But," Kathryn nods.

There's a world in that word, a career together, deep space missions, late nights over coffee, early mornings in bed with bodies sweat-slick and breathless, and Kathryn's angry. She's _furious_ and, maybe, doubly so because she can see the chance they've been given.

See it, be grateful for it, and angry with herself at forgetting the others. Two crews depending on her to cross seventy-five thousand light years.

She can't be thinking about this now. She—B'Elanna swears viciously in Klingon and closes the distance between them. Kathryn's thought is lost in the press of lips on hers and hands tugging at her uniform. Caught up in it, she lets B'Elanna manhandle her up from the chair and they stumble together toward the bed.

Distantly, Kathryn knows they should be thinking. There's plans, duty, but right now her body's singing and B'Elanna's fingers are sliding into her. Her body jerks with it, pushing into B'Elanna, and she hears a soft growl of pleasure in response.

She laughs, shoving B'Elanna backward, and laughs harder when she's tugged down with her.

"I should be furious," B'Elanna whispers, letting Kathryn tug down her uniform, covering a breast with her mouth. "I should hate you for stranding us here."

Kathryn does. She can't regret it, she _can't_ , and she hates herself for that. Hates herself, but doesn't all the same. She bites down, nipping B'Elanna's skin, bringing her off the bed with a shout.

A twist, turn, and B'Elanna's pressing her into the bed, eyes bright, and Kathryn's caught. She stares up, silent, feeling the weight of B'Elanna's thigh against herself and resists the urge to grind against her. She knows what's coming, can already feel the tip of B'Elanna's tongue against slick skin.

"But?" she says, voice rough with the image.

B'Elanna kisses her. "I don't."


End file.
